FRANK, KING OF HELL AND SCOURGE OF EVIL SOULS' POV
The guy is obviously about to freak out, and I don't really know if i'm equipped to handle that. I mean, a lot of people freak out when they summon the devil, but it actually seems like he's just getting an anxiety attack from speaking. How do you fix that?!?! I'm the king of hell, I don't exactly specialize in comforting people- is he going to ask me to take away his anxiety? Honestly I hope not, it's not worth his soul and- wait, he's saying something. "I-I just..... I want someone..... I just want a friend. Like, a really good friend. L-like, 10/10, would trade soul for again. I-is t-that something you c-can do? L-like, for a soul?" That's a new one. Nobody's ever tried to sell their soul for a friend before......fuck, the poor guy must be so desperate to make a friend, but then........ I can't just create someone, and I don't know if there's anyone close enough to even alter their perspective...... shit, i'm not just gonna tell him he's literally so alone that the devil can't get him a friend...... damn. I'm about to make a stupid decision. Away we go, then. I feel my mouth stretch into a grin, only half fake. "Congrats, man, you just traded your soul to have heartfelt sleepover talks with the devil."

GERARD'S POV
Excuse me just a fucking moment did he just say that he just fucking- ok, ok, calm down, chill don't freak, it's good, we're good- okay. I've just summoned the king of hell, lord of the demons himself, and he's standing in my kitchen saying that we're besties. That's it, I cannot function, this is too fuckin weird- i'm probably just imagining shit, I mean, really? Satan? i've finally gone off the deep end and they're gonna send me away and lock me up and i'll never get out and i'm gonna die alone and crazy in a mental institution and i'm imagining satan and trying to sell my soul and i'm just an awkard fag with no life- I fall to the floor, crumpling against the cabinet and curling my knees to my chest. Frank- or whatever this hallucination is- drops to his knees next to me, looking concerned. "Uhh, Gerard? Dude, stay with me- shit, I don't know what to do in this situation, i'm the King of Hell for fuck's sake- oh god, please don't die or shit?" I'm mumbling now, a constant stream of words- it happens when i'm upset. Either i'm hallucinating or having a fucking panic attack in front of the devil- Jesus, literally nothing can go right with me, can it? I'm just a fuck up and I can't even sell my soul without freaking out- HE'S HUGGING ME. JESUS SHIT WHAT EVEN THE KING OF HELL IS HUGGING ME WHAT A FUCKIN WEIRD HALLUCINATION.HOWDY HELLA THIS IS WORSE THAN THE ANTEATERS "See? Not hallucinating. Well, I mean, i'm the devil, so maybe it would be better if you were but- no. Definitely not." My breathing is still spazzing out, but i'm getting a little control back. I manage to loosen my muscles a little, arms still wrapped around my knees. "I-i-i'm on the..... the k-kitchen floor, a-a-and i'm t-trying to sell m-my f-fuckin' soul...... a-a-and i'm having a..... a fuckin' panic attack..... in f-front of t-the king of fuckin' hell......... a-a-and........ a-a-and i'm either g-gonna die or l-live with the f-f-fact that I-i can't even f-fuckin' make a deal with t-the devil w-w-without fucking up and......" I collapsed back into myself, face pressed into my knees as the literal lord of hell hugged me. This is batshit crazy...... jesus. My breathing starts to slow, and I do my best to practice the exercises that the therapist taught me...... In, Out. In, Out. I feel my head slowly- like really slowly- going back to normal, but my hands are shaking and I seem to be crying now. That's actually a good thing- I cry when the majority of the attack has already passed. Now to deal with the fact that I just had a fuckin' panic attack in front of the King of Hell while trying to sell my soul, and it wasn't even because he's the devil. Dammit. He sits back on his heels, looking concerned. "You okay, man? Cause like....." I feel myself turning red, crumbling back down into my knees. "S-shit, i'm sorry, f-f-fuckin panic attack while i'm trying to fuckin sell my soul just from fuckin talking and i'm not even good at apologizing and d-d-dammit-" "Dude, no, just- it's fine, please stop freaking out? I don't know how to handle this, it's not your fault, just- You're sure? About selling your soul? Cause, like, you don't seem like you deserve to go to hell, I don't want to take away your chance at-" "I-i'm not exactly heaven m-material, man, j-just.... t-take my soul. Or whatever." Frank sighed, sitting down with crossed legs and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Mind if I have a smoke?"

TORTURER OF EVIL ONES AND AVENGER OF UNJUST DEATHS'S POV
His breathing is leveling out, but he's still crying and shit and I just- fuck, it's awful really, cause he's just slumped on his kitchen floor looking defeated, like this happens all too much, like he's used to it, and I need a smoke. Pulling out a pack, I ask his permission, and when he nods, I raise one to my lips and light it with the end of my fingertip. His eyes

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